🌷FROM
https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordangel/pseuds/Emptylester
"It's pretty horrible to have hope that you'll get to have a biological kid with your significant other and then have it ripped away; this is more about the emotional journey. The baby might not make it, but Dan and Phil will."
Warnings: mpreg, angst, fwb
If u don't like mpreg don't read it
( its really emotional, but also "realistic" )
( It's set over the specific time period of the USA tour)
words:9007
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Five in the morning, a time that often seems to linger between existing and not, is not actually a time- it is a place. Dan lives in this place most nights, including this one, and realization comes to him as he blinks in the light from his computer screen when birds chirp outside his bedroom window. He gets up somewhat reluctantly and checks the time on his phone, his mind spinning at the thought of his to-do list for the next day. He collapses in bed moments later.
Morning comes too soon.
"Dan?" Phil gives a sharp rap on Dan's door, his glasses perched on his nose. "Wake up, we've got to be at the BBC office at one."
Dan mumbles something unintelligible through the door.
"I heard you awake at five am again, you said you would work on that," Phil cracks open the door, "and you said you would work on waiting until the last minute to get ready as well."
"So I'm inadequate, what are you going to do about it?" Dan retorts, sitting up groggily.
"Come on, Dan. I'll make you cereal." Phil leaves Dan's door ajar as he heads for the kitchen.
Phil is moments away from dragging Dan out of bed when the brunet appears semi-asleep through the glass door and sits beside him. "Morning."
"That's the last of the Wheaties." Phil pushes a bowl towards Dan. "But Tesco should be delivering our groceries tomorrow."
"Great. I've been using your shampoo for a week." Dan grabs a spoon.
"Boo, mine is colour-safe, it's expensive." Phil says grumpily.
"Not my fault you're high maintenance."
"Your mum is high maintenance." Phil says under his breath.
Dan does not hear this reply as he takes only half a bite of cereal before violently standing up and bolting to the bathroom. All Phil hears after a moment is lurching coming from the toilet followed by bouts of silence.
"Dan?" Phil finds himself at the bathroom door after a few minutes, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Dan's voice is muffled through the door but Phil can hear how horse his voice sounds.
"You think you can still go to the BBC in about half an hour?" Phil asks.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be f-" Dan vomits again before he can finish the sentence.
-
They end up at the radio station only ten minutes late. Phil is twice as bubbly as normal to make up for the half-shelled Dan trailing him meekly. As they turn the corner into the office, Dan manages to put on his game face.
Four hours later, they are released from a string of meetings and conferences, mostly concerning the leave of absence they would be taking to tour the US.
"Do you feel okay?" Phil asks Dan as they wait for a taxi.
"Yeah! I feel completely fine again. Must have been some freak food poisoning." Dan laughs. He doesn't catch Phil's doubtful look.
_
The rest of the day is fairly uneventful, ending with the two boys on the couch eating leftover pizza and watching Game of Thrones.
"Are you tired?" Phil asks as the episode draws to a close.
Dan glances over only to be met with devious eyes looking back at him, a smirk on Phil's face. Dan raises his eyebrows.
"Been a while, hasn't it?" Dan smiles and slides off the couch only to crawl onto Phil's lap.
"Too long." Phil says gravelly before connecting his lips with Dan's.
They kiss long and slow as their hands wander south of the border, Dan grinding rhythmically against Phil's hips.
It isn't long before Phil hooks Dan's legs around his own waist and stands, carrying Dan to his bedroom and laying the disheveled man down on his bed. There is a moment where Phil lingers above Dan, just admiring.
"It's been too long." Phil repeats.
"Only a couple weeks." Dan murmurs. "Still."
Phil silences him with a kiss before retrieving the lube out of the nightstand drawer.
They fuck quietly this evening, save for the banging of the woven headboard as Phil grips it for dear life as he thrusts into Dan. Dan, for once, is silent.
In the sweaty aftermath, Dan lay on his side of the bed naked and breathless, his eyes trailing over Phil's body.
"You're pretty hot, you know that?" Dan smiles.
"You're not so bad yourself." Phil yawns and rolls over to face away from Dan, leaving Dan feeling a little neglected.
So they fuck on the regular, and they were definitely best friends, but Dan could also use a little cuddling on occasion. So sue him.
-
Yesterday doesn't worry Phil. Getting sick on occasion is normal, obviously. This morning, however, when he awakens to an empty bed and horrible sounds coming from the bathroom, it does worry him.
"Dan?" Phil pushes his glasses onto his face and pulls on a pair of boxers before giving the bathroom door a tap.
"Ugh, Phil. I'll be fine." Dan says unconvincingly from the other side of the door.
"I need to wee, unfortunately." Phil says, worry in his voice. "But take your time."
Dan opens the door a few minutes later and Phil is met with a wreck. Dan's hair is plastered to his forehead and he is just wearing boxers and a t-shirt that is soaked through.
"Fucking hell." Dan breathes, wiping a hand across his mouth.
Phil uses the bathroom and then brings Dan a glass of ice water that seems to quell the rolling thunderstorm that is Dan's stomach.
"Hey, is it normal for nausea to accompany stabbing stomach pains?" Dan asks from the couch as he scrolls through Web MD.
"I don't know. Maybe you should go to the doctor, Dan." Phil frowns.
"I'm fine, Phil." Dan says.
"Last time we ended up in A&E together you ended up needing surgery."
"I'll tell you if it gets that bad." Dan stands up, swaying a little, before walking towards his room.
-
It doesn't happen again until two and a half weeks later, barely a week into the United States tour.
They had just made it out of Florida when Dan lurches from the bed and spends the next ten minutes in the tiny toilet of the tour bus.
"Are you travel sick?" Phil asks as he sits adjacent from Dan in the tiny hallway outside the bathroom about ten minutes later.
"Maybe." Dan rubs at his forehead. "It's passing."
"All we've eaten is popcorn and sandwiches."
"God Phil don't talk about food." Dan's hand flies to his stomach, a sharp look spreading across his face.
"Dan... this is starting to worry me," Phil pauses to gauge Dan's reaction before continuing, "Let's just find a minute clinic somewhere and stop in."
Dan's eyes fill with slight panic as his shoulders drop. The bus spins slightly around him and Phil and suddenly he can't speak; tears threaten at the edges of his eyes, boulders of water catch in his eyelashes and expose him to Phil. He doesn't say anything.
"Look. It's probably nothing." Phil nudges his knee against Dan's, their legs filling the hallway.
"Then we don't need to do anything about it." Dan chokes back, his hand still on his stomach.
"It's a virus, let's just go get some antibiotics, okay?"
"Phil, I-" Dan stops mid sentence and scrambles to his feet, disappearing through the toilet door. Long after the vomiting Phil can only hear the sound of stifled sobs.
-
Phil has a feeling Dan is hiding something from him. This is a very strange feeling to have about someone with whom he literally spends ninety percent of his life, but as he lies awake one evening on a rare free day, it is all he can think about.
They had a day off with free time and decent Internet, two things lacking from their lives lately, so they had done a live show and filmed a new gaming video to catch up on work. Everything seemed completely normal, save for Dan's behaviour off camera.
It boiled down to them lying in parallel beds in a random hotel room in Kentucky. Dan is whimpering into the darkness, which is weird alone, but the fact this was the third night in a row Phil has heard this made it worse. Phil decides to give it one more night before he speaks up, and to his relief the next night Dan is silent.
Thank god.
Later they have two nights in Chicago, much to the delight of Phil, who is thoroughly enjoying the boat tours and bean adventures in the windy city. With the stress and distraction of traveling and doing shows, the two boys only had a moment alone long after their crew went to bed. Phil doesn't know who is looking forward to this more- him or Dan.
As a celebratory measure the crew, the bodyguard, Dan, Phil, and Martyn all went for drinks until about one am. Dan spent the entire evening nursing a single Shirley Temple, while Phil was three Jack and cokes in by midnight. Despite being intoxicated, Phil noticed the way Dan was refraining from drinking and when Dan whispered "I need to tell you something" about half way through, Phil regretted the drinks. He wanted to whisk Dan away and talk to him right then and there with no distractions or noise or people.
He started the evening wanting to get Dan alone so he could have sex but after the look of horror on Dan's face he just wanted to speak to Dan in private about whatever he needed to tell him.
Somehow, Phil knew the dread filling him was real and just. The moment they reached the hotel room fear had sobered Phil and the two men sat side by side on one of the beds and Dan took a deep breath.
"Okay. Go ahead." Phil puts his hand on Dan's leg.
"You first." Dan whispers.
"You're the only one with something to say." Phil reminds Dan softly.
"Just. Say something." Dan closes his eyes.
"You've been sick a lot the past month. Crying at night. Not drinking this evening." Phil's voice stays low.
"If. If you had to guess," Dan takes a shaky breath and opens his eyes slowly, "what would you think is wrong?"
"I-" Phil pauses, his mouth wanting to say words he knows are ridiculous, impossible, he doesn't know what game Dan is playing. "I don't?"
"Phil," Dan's face is pale, "I went to a doctor, a couple weeks ago. When you went out with your brother. And then I went to two more when I told you I just wanted to go out on my own for a bit."
"Are you dying?" Phil blurts out, scared sick by Dan's tone, sick of playing this game.
"Phil, I'm pregnant." Dan's voice breaks and for a second he feels like he's about to cry, but instead a laugh chokes out. "I'm. Pregnant."
Phil just stares at him. Dan can almost see the gears in the blue eyes fixated on him, turning and turning, trying desperately to make sense of it.
"Not dying?" Is all Phil can say, his words failing him.
"Not dying." Dan manages a smile, the weight of telling Phil off his chest and for the first time in two weeks he can breathe. "And for the record, it's yours."
Phil doesn't smile, doesn't even blink. He just stares at Dan and swallows hard.
"I'm not, like, secretly a girl or anything, I've just got a uterus which is semi-functioning and it's probably from a twin I absorbed in the womb and it's really not that weird or abnormal I only had like three eggs and the stars aligned and one was fertilized and it isn't hurting me or anything I was just experiencing morning sickness and some weird hormo-"
"Semi-functioning?" Phil interrupts Dan's rambling.
"...Yeah." Dan coughs. "Semi. All three doctors said I'd make a great scientific paper but the thing has like a ten percent chance of living past the first trimester."
"That's not so bad then, right?" Phil seems to relax a tiny bit, "Just get it removed, like your appendix. Can you wait until we get back home?"
"R-removed?" Dan stutters, his voice faltering, "What?"
"You- you're not?" Phil's eyebrows shoot upwards. "You're not seriously counting on a ten percent chance, right?"
"I didn't even get one of those stomach x-rays, they don't really know anything about it, or me. This has only happened like, seventeen times in the history of ever and they didn't have technology like we do now." Dan takes a rapid breath, "And even in the past of every case, it's still 10%, which means at least one had to survive. At least one-"
"Dan, what are you on about?" Phil laughs now, but it's a breathy, sarcastic laugh that makes Dan ill. "Listen, best case scenario- you end up with a kid. You can't do this whole Youtube thing with a kid, you're not anywhere near ready to be a dad."
"Why do you keep saying 'you', Phil? This is yours too." Dan frowns.
"I don't want to be a part of this, I don't want you to be a part of this either. You're being ridiculous." Phil runs a hand through his hair.
"I know," Dan sighs, "I shouldn't want it. I don't know if I have new hormones or what but it feels like a part of me. A part of me I kind of want to keep."
"Oh Dan." Phil's voice goes soft, the sarcasm gone. "You don't have to decide anything right now, let's just get some sleep."
Dan pauses before nodding and peeling off his t-shirt, standing to walk to his own bed.
"Sleep with me." Phil climbs under his duvet and pats the bed beside him, smiling as Dan joins.
In the darkness their bare torsos press together and Phil wraps his arms around Dan's shoulders. "I'm glad you aren't dying." His voice is soft and warm between their lips.
They fall asleep just like that, Phil's arms limp around Dan while Dan's hands are gently resting on his lower stomach.
It's a few weeks later and they're just about done with the tour. They have a few final shows in California and then they'll be home bound until August. Phil and Dan haven't talked about "it" much more, "it" being the designated term for the human life inside of Dan.
Dan has convinced Phil that he'll get it removed back in London, which has managed to keep the issue under wraps between the two of them. Phil took one night out to spend with his brother before Martyn flew back home with Cornelia and Dan chose to spend the night in the hotel room.
Phil gets back later than planned this particular evening, the faint smell of tequila on his breath. It is completely dark in the hotel room, save for the fluorescent light seeping out from under the bathroom door.
"Dan?" Phil asks as he kicks his shoes off, flipping on the bedroom lights.
The only reply is the faint sniffling from behind the bathroom door.
"Dan, can I come in?" Phil says with his hand on the doorknob, not planning to take no for an answer. As he pushes open the door, his eyes fall on Dan.
The boy is sitting on the floor with his back against the tub and his arms around his knees, only in boxers and a t-shirt. His eyes are swollen and his hair is plastered against his forehead. Despite everything, he gives Phil a half-hearted smile.
"Hey you."
Phil doesn't respond as he sinks to the floor beside Dan, giving his not-boyfriend a once-over.
"Thought you'd never return." Dan says softly.
"You look like shit." Phil raises his eyebrows.
"Feel like it too. Are you drunk?"
Phil licks his lips and reaches out to grab Dan's hand with a slight head shake, watching as Dan's knees slide from his chest to being flat against the floor. His eyes are drawn to the, now obvious, lump resting on the bottom of Dan's stomach. To anyone else it would have looked like Dan had had a big supper. But it wasn't that.
"That's so fucking weird." Phil laughs nervously. "So-" he pauses, "Weird."
Dan frowns. "You think I don't know that?"
"It's just-" Phil clears his throat, "There's no chance..."
"We don't know that."
"Two doctors, Dan, two doctors said-"
"Stop it," Dan cuts him off angrily, dropping Phil's hand. "That's not true, and it doesn't matter. Leave it alone."
"I'm just being honest, Dan." Phil laughs, his voice tired and raspy in the suddenly too-small bathroom, "It's weird."
"Can you stop, please? It's weird, Phil, I know. It's weird as fuck but it's something that is happening to both of us and I need you right now and all you do is come back drunk and tell me it's fucking weird. Fucking unbelievable." Dan scoffs, burying his face in his hands. "I've been waiting up for you to return and I'm starting to think if you had anywhere else to be you wouldn't be here."
"That's not true."
"Yes it is." Dan glowers.
"I'm not drunk."
"How fucking stupid do you think I am? I can smell it on you, you're a bloody mess and I'm sitting here like a fool expecting you to, I dunno, take care of me? Because this is a mess and it's sort of your fault?" Dan scoffs.
"Hey, this isn't my fault." Phil says, his eyebrows narrowing.
"If you hadn't had sex with me, hadn't climbed into my bed and wrapped yourself around me and kissed me like you still loved me," Dan's voice caught as a sob tore through him, "if you hadn't of fucked me-"
"Dan, stop." Phil whispers. "Please. I'm sorry. This isn't anyone's fault."
"No Phil," Dan takes a wrecked breath, "It's your fault. It's your bloody fault."
"You're upset." Phil wraps his arm around Dan's neck.
"Of course I'm fucking upset, I-" Dan breaks down again, losing the fight between speaking and sobbing as he buries his head in Phil's shoulder. The rest of his sentence is lost in the bright lights and wet tile of the yellow bathroom.
Phil carries Dan to one of the queen beds in the room half an hour later and lays him down like a child, pulling back the duvet and wiping the corners of his eyes with the back of his thumb.
"Sleep, you need to calm down." Phil kisses Dan's forehead. "We're gonna get through this."
Dan looks up at Phil with puffy eyes and a tear-stained t-shirt and for a moment they just stare at one another, communicating with their eyes and hearts over spoken word. Phil climbs in on the other side of the bed after taking off his shorts, wraps Dan in his arms, and kisses his forehead again.
Dan reaches under the blankets and runs his fingers along the edge of Phil's boxers. Phil makes a noise of confusion.
"I want you." Dan mumbles into the darkness, continuing to tug at Phil's waistband.
"You're upset." Phil replies, backing away a few inches.
"Yeah, make me better." Dan leans over and kisses Phil's neck, moving his hands to Phil's waist and dragging their bodies together. "Baby, please."
"Dan-" Phil cuts himself off as Dan takes Phil's soft dick in his hand as he sucks on Phil's neck.
"Tell me to stop." Dan pulls back, his hand stalling as his lips linger centimeters from Phil's. "Tell me to stop and I will."
Phil runs his tongue over his lips and says nothing.
Dan pushes Phil's boxers to his knees and grates against Phil's crotch, taking both their dicks into his hand. Phil bites back a moan and kicks his boxers all the way off, grating his hips in time with Dan's.
"Get the lube. No condom, bareback tonight." Dan murmurs as he thrusts into his hand. Phil slips out and digs through his backpack, pulling out a small tube and climbing back onto the bed.
"Don't prep." Dan says.
"You'll regret that." Phil replies as he works the lube onto himself.
Dan pauses his own movements and lets go of his dick, turning and pinning Phil against the headboard. The boy's body collides against the wood with a surprisingly loud bang. Phil's dick gives a hard throb.
"Phil, I'm terrified, angry, and confused. Some of that is aimed at you. So help me god, I need to be fucked. Understand?" Dan watches Phil's pupils dilate, even in the dim room.
Phil just nods as Dan releases him and turns around on all fours. Phil strokes himself a few times with the aid of lube before lining up with Dan and pushing himself forward. He chokes back a gasp as Dan cries out in pain.
"F-fuck." Dan gasps, his fingers digging into the crisp hotel sheets.
Phil grabs onto Dan's hips and builds up a rhythm as he thrusts. With each movement Dan's words turn into jumbled moans, his limbs going limp. Phil's fingers digging into Dan's hipbones are the only things giving Dan support, the rest of the man a collapsed mess with tears running down his cheeks. This goes on for a handful of minutes and just as Phil is in his last seconds of composure-
"O-okay, stop stop," Dan chokes back a sob, "Stop."
Phil stops instantly, ignoring how close he was. "Do want me to pull out?"
Dan shakes his head as he wipes away tears with one hand, "No. Just stay."
Phil waits in silence for a moment, shock-still, before leaning over slowly and kissing a line down Dan's back. With each touch of his lips he whispers something Dan can't hear. When he finishes he reaches a hand around and takes Dan's cock in his hand, stroking it while barely moving his hips, just enough to push Dan over the edge.
Dan comes in Phil's hand silently, his body going stiff for a brief moment before he collapses onto the bed, dragging Phil with him. Phil slides out of Dan and ruts into his own hand a few times before coming as well with a breathy moan.
"You alright?" Phil whispers after they had both come down. He is the big spoon, unable to see Dan's face.
"Guess so." Dan murmurs back, reaching to link his left hand with Phil's.
"Want to go clean up?"
"Can we just lay here for a bit?"
"Sure." Phil replied, pressing his lips to Dan's neck.
"Seventeen weeks." Dan says so softly Phil barely catches it. "It's the size of an avocado."
"A little avocado in your tummy." Phil smiles to himself.
Dan moves their linked hands to his lower stomach. For a moment they rest there and listen to their synchronized breathing, just taking it in.
It's kind of fucked up, doing this, but what about this situation isn't fucked up?
"Does it hurt?" Phil whispers.
"Not really. A little bit. Like I've eaten a stone." Dan is facing away from Phil but Phil can hear Dan's smile in his voice.
"More like you've gained a stone." Phil laughs softly.
"Rude."
"You ready for the last show tomorrow?" Phil asks, "And then we're headed home."
"I'm ready for the show, maybe not to go home." Dan says after a moment.
"I want my bed back, and our internet." Phil says.
"I want that too, but I don't..." Dan pauses.
"Don't what?"
"I don't want surgery."
"I'm proud of you." Phil replies.
Dan goes silent for a few moments and when he speaks again his voice is tear-stained. "I... I'm not saying I'm not going to do it. But I don't want... I think..."
"Dan, Dan, shhh." Phil shushes Dan as he moves closer, "It's for the best, I know it won't be easy."
"Phil, what if it makes it? I'm actually in my second trimester now. I already beat the ten percent." Dan says hopefully.
"I've been reading up on this. The chance of this thing killing you is higher than the chance of it living." Phil replies.
Dan sighs back into Phil's arms and says nothing. They remain silent as passing headlights engulf the room in light and then fade into the distance, stranding the two men in darkness once again. This carries on until Phil is asleep and Dan listens to the motorway noises until they sing him unconscious.
Perhaps the reason the duo has been so solid over the years is because of their ability to pretend like nothing happened the morning after. This worked with fights, sex, heart-to-hearts; it worked with just about everything. So when Dan awakes to Phil getting dressed and signing "I Just Can't Wait to be King" from the Lion King, it takes him by no surprise.
"Good morning." Dan yawns and throws back the sheets, suddenly feeling weird for being ass naked.
"Morning Dan. Sorry if the room smells of burnt coffee, I didn't realize I left the machine on." Phil laughs, "You ready for our last day on tour?"
"Oh you know it." Dan smiles, heading towards the bathroom, still naked. "I'm going to shower, you need the bathroom?"
"Nope, it's all yours. Don't use my shampoo!"
"Too late!" Dan laughs as he shuts the bathroom door.
Phil rolls his eyes but sits down on the bed and begins putting on his socks. Something on the bed catches his eye and he turns, pulling the sheets back a little more.
Blood.
Anal was not always mess-free, or even blood-free, but last night in the darkness Phil had slightly noticed more fluid than normal. In the daylight it looked like somebody had been slaughtered over the sheets. He suddenly wished Dan had let them clean up, then he could have noticed the overwhelming amount of darkening blood pooled across the sheets.
Some of it looked fresh, like it had come from-
Phil's train of thought is interrupted by a gasp of pain from the bathroom.
"Dan?!" Phil leaps up, his socks half on.
"Phil, I'm fine, don't come in here!" Dan says from inside the bathroom, and despite his words his voice is strained and breathy. Water drowns out his gasps.
"Dan, let me in!" Phil pounds on the door.
"No- no Phil." Dan insists from within.
"I will break this damn door down, don't try me." Phil is about to grab the doorknob when it opens, steam escaping the small room.
Dan is wet, with a towel around his waist and an arm wrapped around his stomach.
"What's wrong?" Phil's voice is laced with worry.
"Nothing, it's just moving." Dan chuckles, but his voice holds no humour.
"There's blood? All over the sheets." Phil tells him, "It looks bad."
"Yeah there's blood running down my legs." Dan says so nonchalantly Phil almost misses it.
"Dan, come on, you need to go to the emergency room." Phil is still calm and collected.
"Phil, our last two shows are what is being filmed this afternoon and tonight. Let me get through these, and I promise the second we're back home I'll deal with it." Dan pleads softly, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.
"Are you in pain?" Phil asks.
"Not right now. I'll be fine, the blood is probably just from last night, you and I." Dan gives Phil a reassuring smile.
"Okay. If you promise, I'll leave you alone." Phil says reluctantly.
Dan's sure this is going to be the worst show he's ever done, and it is about to be recorded forever. Wonderful. He's pretty sure he has a fever, his head is throbbing, and he's thrown up twice in the last hour.
Phil's been right by his side but, thankfully, refraining from saying a word.
Twenty minutes in, Dan feels like he's about to pass out and he looks at Phil like the world is ending. Thankfully, Phil's able to steal the stage until Dan stops looking like death and the show goes on.
Pure prayer and love get them through the first show but both men wonder how they'll handle another one tonight.
They get food before the show at a small café near the venue and Dan seems to be feeling much better.
"One more. I can't believe we've come this far." Dan grins as he eats his salad.
"I'll miss you America, with your weird Ketchup." Phil messes with the condiment on the table.
"Ketchup shouldn't be sweet, it's just weird." Dan agrees with a mouthful.
"I checked us in for our flights tomorrow, we're all set." Phil says, turning his phone towards Dan so he can see the confirmation, "Ten a.m. flight, we should be fine."
"Man, after this party tonight I might not be fine." Dan scoffs.
"Hey," Phil pauses, "Will you drink?"
There's a tense silence for a minute before Dan speaks, "Yeah? Why not?"
"I just-" Phil shakes his head, "Nevermind."
Dan frowns and glances down at his stomach, feeling guilty for not protecting the life inside of him.
"It's going to die or kill you either way, Dan" The voice in his head tells him.
Funny how it sounds just like Phil.
No single two people are more surprised that the two men survive the last show in America than Dan and Phil themselves. From the outside, it looked like a masterpiece of humour, singing, and banter; from the inside it looked like the theatre was on sideways and Dan just wanted to be in a warm bed somewhere, anywhere, else.
But, he survived.
Everything is set. They have their flight tickets laid out on the counter to grab n' go in the morning, everything is packed, and all they have to do is make it to the airport and get on the plane alive.
Easy enough, they hope.
They attend their after party and actually have a really nice time, neither of them deciding to drink this time around. They hope the rest of the evening will go as smoothly.
But the universe is not kind, unfortunately, because suddenly it's five am and Dan is practically screaming in pain as he vomits over the toilet.
He clutches his stomach as he heaves uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. The bathroom feels like it's about 50 degrees and his own skin is trying to melt off of his skeleton, which actually sounds preferable to his current state of being. This started when Dan woke abruptly at four am and crawled to the bathroom only to end up vomiting over himself as he peed sitting down- too dizzy to stand.
Phil frantically followed Dan to find the brunet laying on the bathroom floor, passed out and covered in puke and piss. Now it'd been going on for an hour and Phil was leaning against the tub, rubbing Dan's back as he heaved.
Phil spent the first half hour insisting Dan needed to go to accident and emergency as soon as possible, but after Dan screamed to leave him alone, he gave up.
Now, Dan is sobbing and rotating from the cold shower to the toilet. Phil keeps hearing him mumble what sound like prayers into the porcelain throne. He just keeps rubbing Dan's back.
When it seems like the worst of it has passed, or is yet to come, Dan shuts off the shower and just sits on the tile floor, closing his eyes. They sit in silence for a spell until Phil speaks.
"It's hurting you." Phil whispers, "I don't want it to do that."
"I'm fine." Dan rasps, his voice wrecked.
"Let's delay the flight, okay? Let's get you to the hospital, tell everyone it was a freak appendectomy, and leave this whole thing overseas." Phil says, his voice exhausted.
Phil expects Dan to get mad. To put up a fight. To ignore him entirely. He doesn't expect this.
"Yeah, okay." Dan is holding his head in his hands.
"Really?" Phil asks, surprised.
"Yeah. I'm tired." Dan breathes.
"Okay. Okay, let's go." Phil stands and reaches out a hand to help Dan up.
Dan doesn't even look up from his hands as he begins to cry. Sobs wreck through him, shaking his frame and stealing his breath. He sobs as snot drips from his noise and saliva muffles his cries, mixing with tears as his face gets covered in various fluids. It's disgusting. It is not a soft cry. Dan Howell is crying and gasping for air into the hotel robe he put on after his third shower, his hair pushed back messily and held down by sweat.
He feels more disgusting than he ever has. Phil just lets him cry. He ends up crying himself sick, dry-vomiting once more before collapsing onto the floor. With puffy eyes he looks up at Phil and they both suddenly know.
"Come on." Is all Phil says, helping Dan to his feet. In the overwhelming light of the bathroom Phil can see how thin and exhausted Dan looks.
"I'm sorry." Dan keeps saying over and over as he runs a washcloth over his face and returns to the room to slide on sweatpants and a tank top. "I'm so sorry"
Phil doesn't respond as he puts on real clothes and contacts. They leave the room a few minutes later in silence, but with linked hands. They stop by the welcome desk to buy another night in the hotel and ask for a taxi card, which Phil uses to call a cab.
Dan doesn't speak as he clutches his stomach, silent tears refusing to stop falling down his cheeks. Even when the car arrives he slides into the back wordlessly.
"Early morning, eh?" The friendly car man grins, "Where are we headed?"
"Um, the nearest hospital, please." Phil gives a forced smile and watches the car man's face drop.
"Oh, alright. Is your friend okay?" The man begins driving.
"Not really, but he will be." Phil shakes his head and hopes the man won't ask any more questions. He watches his boyfriend curled into the side of the car crying and his heart hurts.
In ten minutes they're deposited at the emergency room at Centinela Hospital and Phil is handing some pristine dollars to the man with a rushed 'thank you'.
The world seems to stop as they walk towards the doors, Dan still clutching his stomach and Phil worried out of his mind.
"Sorry." Dan whispers before they walk through the glass doors.
"Don't be sorry." Phil counters.
"I love you." Dan says and suddenly they're in the waiting room that is surprisingly empty. It's reminiscent of the time they waited for hours with "matching hair cuts and skinny jeans" so many years ago.
They walk up to the desk and the woman raises her eyebrows in lieu of a greeting.
"My friend is having really bad stomach pain and he's bleeding out his ass." Phil says with a straight face.
"Okay, fill out these forms." The woman hands Phil a chart.
They walk over to some chairs and Dan tries to wordlessly take the chart but Phil refuses, watching the pained look on Dan's face.
Phil fills out the chart as quickly as he can, confused by the American medical system, and returns it to the front desk.
"It shouldn't be too long, hun." The woman gives a sympathetic look towards Dan before returning to her game of Solitaire.
Phil isn't entirely affectionate. He and Dan aren't exactly dating either, but for the next twenty minutes Phil whispers sweet nothings of encouragement to Dan.
Things like "you're so brave", "you're going to be okay", and "you can do it, you've made it so far" at first, and then as the pain gets worse in Dan's eyes they turn into things like "we can adopt kids one day", "this is going to save you so much pain", and when the world seems to cave around Dan, "I love you".
Finally, they called him back. Dan doesn't even notice until Phil stands and pulls Dan to his feet, leading him towards the door. It isn't until they're in a room that Phil realizes that Dan is incapacitated and it is up to Phil to explain everything.
The doctor on call looks weary but kind, thankfully. He asks what the matter is and Phil rubs Dan's back as he explains.
Rare condition, born with a uterus, freak chance of impregnation, 17 weeks, just take it out please, please, it's killing him, please,-
Phil is pleading, losing his composure as he watches blood soak through Dan's sweatpants. The doctor looks a bit shocked but pages someone and orders Dan onto the gurney-looking bed.
"The surgeon on call is a very good one, you'll be okay in no time Mr. Howell. Your partner will be just fine." He directs the last line at Phil.
"Thank you." Dan whispers as he grips Phil's hand and closes his eyes tightly.
Phil spends an hour and a half mostly asleep in the waiting room. Apparently people refrain from dying at seven thirty am because Phil is almost alone, save for three other people. It's nearing eight when he begins to get anxious.
At eight fifteen a man in a white coat puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him that Dan had a lot of internal bleeding, they removed the growth but Dan is still in the operating room.
"What? Is he going to be okay?" Phil demands, his voice hoarse.
"We don't know. He's got a double hernia from the growth and internal bleeding. We have a good team and he's got a good shot, but I didn't want anything to come as a surprise to you." The doctor is solemn but comforting.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Why don't you go home, Mr. Howell. Let us get him stable while you get some rest."
"Lester." Phil's mind auto-corrects, "It's Lester. He's just my best friend."
"Well," The doctor's face contorts, like he doesn't believe it for a second, "we'll do our best to put him back together. Get some rest."
With this he leaves the waiting room and Phil is left to drown on his own again in a sea of hideous flower upholstery and the smell of bleach. His flight leaves in two hours and a part of him pretends that they'll be out of here in an hour and on that flight home, done with the American tour and headed straight for London once again.
With shaking hands, Phil calls the airport. Then, he calls a car to the hotel.
There's no more word about Dan in the twenty minutes it takes for a car to arrive. Phil leaves his number with the front desk and climbs into the sedan, feeling more exhausted now than he had over the course of the entire tour.
"The ER to a hotel, that's new. Normally it's the other way around." The car driver chuckles, clueless to the distraught look on Phil's face.
"Yeah, well that was us last night." Phil deadpans.
"Us? You leave someone there?" He prods.
"He's in recovery," Phil lies, mostly for his own sake, "I'm coming back to get him soon."
"You're a good friend." The driver says with an air of sincerity.
"Boyfriend." Phil corrects uncontrollably.
"Good for you both." The man smiles in response.
They ride in silence before Phil is dropped off at the hotel and he trudges to the lift, barely remembering what floor they are on. By the time he jams his keycard into the lock he can barely remember his own name, anxiety and exhaustion draining him of his humanity.
There's a lot of blood on the floor. There's a lot of blood on the sheets. There's a lot of blood in the bathroom. In fact, just about everywhere Phil looks there's a lot of blood. Everything bad happens before the sun rises, he thinks, everything happens before you have the light to see just how much blood is everywhere.
He numbly wipes down the bathroom, which was the worst, after calling the front desk for new sheets. After the bathroom is clean he takes a shower with his phone perched on the towel rack, ringer on high.
Nobody calls.
Phil sits in a towel and Googles "When after surgery can you fly" and the results all blur together but are mostly inconclusive. First you have to live through the surgery.
He calls his mom and cries when it goes to voicemail.
When the bed has new sheets and only the carpet still has faint blood stains, Phil rubs his heavy eyes and falls asleep. He dreams of a giant ocean and a baby on a raft, crying and drifting farther out to sea, despite how fast he swims the baby keeps going farther and farther out. Too far from the shore and too far from the baby raft, he goes under, only to see Dan lifeless at the bottom of the sea.
He wakes up to his phone loudly chiming and he can't catch his breath or steady his hands as he answers the unknown number.
"Yes?" Phil answers, struggling to make his voice sound calm.
"Is this Phil Lester?" The serious voice asks.
"This is he." He can't breathe he can't breathe he can't-
"Dan Howell is out of surgery and stable, but we want to keep him at least overnight. He's had quite a rough day." A woman speaks over the line.
Relief floods through Phil so suddenly and entirely that it gives him vertigo and he about topples over, gasping into the phone.
"T-thank you. Can I come now?" Phil breathes.
"He'll be unconscious for another hour or so, and generally only family is allowed, but I presume you're...?"
Phil knows she's assuming because of the accent that they're related, even with different surnames, but he'll take it. "Yes, I'm family."
Isn't that funny, he thinks, that Dan went from best friend to boyfriend to family in the course of three conversations?
"I must warn you, though, he's in rough shape." The woman says softly.
"As long as he's alive, we can get through everything else." Phil closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'll be there soon."
Phil feels considerably more hopeful as he gathers a change of clothes for Dan in his backpack, along with a book and his laptop. Dan will be fine soon and they'll be headed back. He re-books the plane tickets for six days away, hoping it will be enough time for Dan to recover a little, and heads to the hospital.
His Uber driver (now that it was a decent time of day they were around) does not speak to him past a "Hello" and a "Have a nice day" and for this Phil is thankful. He is so tired. Anxiety has been keeping him awake and now that he is calmer exhaustion lives in his bones, barely holding him upright.
It takes twenty-five minutes for him to check in and get brought to the most sterile recovery room known to man. He has to wear blue medical booties over his shoes and a facemask to even be let in. The walls are stark white and there are no benches or chairs, just wide and empty white hallways. It scares Phil a little.
He sees Dan on the bed in his room and isn't really surprised at how God-awful he looks. It isn't much worse than the look on Dan's face this morning as he puked blood in the horribly lit hotel bathroom.
Was that just this morning? Phil thinks. It seems like it was weeks ago.
Phil runs a finger through the curly hair on Dan's head.
"Hey Bear." He whispers to the unconscious boy with a breathing mask.
The gentle beeping of the monitors fills the silence.
"You know," Phil sits down in the solitary white chair, "there were times when the only way I could fall asleep was to listen to your heart beat."
"In fact, sometimes it's still that way. I don't think that much has changed over the years, I've kind of always felt the same about you." Phil is murmuring, his words almost unintelligible. "I don't think anything has ever scared me as much as the thought of losing you does."
Phil stops himself from crying as he watches Dan sleep. Even when he links his fingers with Dan's and they're still warm and human Phil still thinks Dan looks dead on this too-white bed. The dark shadows under his eyes look like he's been in a fistfight; his cheeks look sunken.
"Please be okay." Phil pleads, "I need you so much. I'm sorry this happened, I'm sorry it was my fault. I'm sorry I ever tried to make this about me, Dan. I'm sorry for the false hope and my apathy- I'm sorry I didn't stay in the hotel rooms with you more."
Phil sniffs, briefly checking to make sure nobody is around before continuing.
"I tried to pretend like this was no big deal, just something we could fix later, but the truth is I was so scared," Phil takes a shaky breath, "I was just trying to convince myself that this wouldn't change everything. You know, I actually let myself imagine having a biological kid with you. That night I got drunk and came back I- I just, thought about it for too long."
Phil pauses for a moment as tears stream down his face, "It was like waking up from a really good dream and realising that everything in reality is terrible. I wanted it so badly, and you kept saying that it was possible... you know the worst part? Even when you were collapsing in the bathroom last night, this morning, whatever, I still wanted to believe you could keep it. We could keep it."
There is a soft knock on the door and Phil struggles to gain his composure, sitting up straighter.
"I'm Chief of Surgery, Christopher Dorian." The tall, black doctor slides his medical mask down his face and reaches out a hand. "I operated on Mr. Howell a couple of hours ago."
Phil stands and shakes his hand. "Thank you for fixing him, he's kind of my everything." The words come from sleep deprivation and something else, something Phil can't quite place.
"It was an unusual case, but he should be okay. He will wake up soon. I'm so sorry for your loss." The doctor says.
His words throw Phil off guard. Loss? He must be talking about the baby, but so far every medical professional had been referring to it as a tumour, a growth, or a lump. A part of Phil wanted to believe it never held life at all, but here was the surgeon who took it out- calling it a baby. A baby! One that was 17 weeks old and the size of an avocado. A baby that was his and Dan's.
Phil breaks down crying before he can speak and Dr. Dorian lets him be alone with Dan.
Phil sits on the end of the bed and whispers Dan's name over and over, dying to see the happy smile on the man's face once more. He's never felt so desperate to get Dan to wake up.
"What if we do it?" Phil asks no one in particular, "What if we grow old together? Adopt a kid, a dog, buy a house. Fuck everyone, what if we live for us? This wasn't meant to be right now, but that doesn't mean it is never meant to be."
Dan shifts for the first time and Phil shuts up for ten minutes, just watching. Phil's almost nodded off on the edge of the bed when Dan shifts again, this time almost opening his eyes before letting them flutter shut again.
"Dan?" Phil whispers.
Flutter.
"Dan, love?" Phil says again, gently stroking the side of Dan's face.
Flutter open. Stares for a second. Flutter shut.
"Dan, please," Phil's voice cracks, "just be awake for a second and let me know you're okay."
"mm tired." Dan mumbles.
Phil takes a deep breath. "Okay, just sleep. I love you."
"Love you." Dan murmurs.
Phil leaves again out of boredom and hunger and ends up sleeping in the hotel room until four pm, waking up drowsy and disoriented.
After sorting himself out with coffee and a full meal at the Applebee's next to the hotel, he spends another $6 getting back to the hospital. Rested, fed, and not in fear that Dan is going to die, the hospital seems like a much less threatening place to Phil now.
Dan has been waking up off and on but the doctors say he's been too confused and disoriented to think anything, much less wonder where Phil was.
Now, however, he's been asleep for two hours straight and has lost the breathing mask, which is a good sign. Phil gently nudges Dan's shoulder and smiles as Dan opens his eyes.
"Hey you." Phil smiles, trailing his fingers down Dan's arm.
"Hi." Dan speaks, his voice hoarse and gravelly. His hair is completely curly and damp, sticking out strangely.
"You okay?" Phil asks softly.
"Yeah."
"I'm glad you're awake."
"Yeah."
"I rebooked our plane tickets for Friday, but we can wait longer if you're not feeling up to it." Phil says.
"Okay." Dan closes his eyes again.
"Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"Never." Is Dan's sudden and firm response.
"I'm in love with you." Phil can't stop the words coming out of his mouth.
"Me too." Dan says quietly. "We lost the baby."
"I know."
"I'm going to be sad for a while." Dan opens his eyes again and swallows.
"Me too."
Phil reaches out and takes Dan's hand and they sit like that for a little while until Dan is almost asleep again.
"They told me to keep you awake so you could eat some applesauce." Phil squeezes Dan's hand.
"I don't want any."
"I'll eat some too." Phil smiles, taking the applesauce off the tray and peeling back the tin foil.
"Can we just go home?" Dan looks so sad.
"Not yet." Phil frowns, "You have to get a little better. You've been sliced and diced within the last twelve hours."
"Twelve hours?" Dan seems to perk up a bit. "What time is it?"
"It's almost five thirty pm." Phil checks the clock on the wall.
"What time did I get here?" Dan squints.
"About five thirty am." Phil raises his eyebrows, "You've missed most of today."
"What did you do?" Dan wipes at his forehead and frowns at the corresponding tug on his IV.
"I cleaned the blood out of the hotel room, slept, showered, ate at Applebee's, sat and talked to you for a while." Phil says.
"I don't remember you talking to me." Dan almost smiles.
"Yeah, you were out cold." Phil smirks.
"Oh? What did you say to unconscious Dan?"
"I just rambled, it's not important. I'll tell you when you're not drugged and in the hospital." Phil laughs.
The rest of the evening is spent getting through a single applesauce cup and watching cartoons on the shitty TV in the hospital room. Dan falls asleep again later in the night while wide-awake Phil keeps watch. Phil figures it's the least he can do.
The next day Dan regains some colour in his cheeks and he's free to be discharged and so Phil wheels him out of the hospital in a chair and they take the last cab back to the hotel. Dan has a collection of gauze, antiseptic, a prescription for hydrocodone he's pretty sure he can't even get filled here, and a wicked incision line on his abdomen.
For a man fresh out of dying, he looks pretty damn good.
Phil and Dan spend the next five days exhausting their money supply on the hotel room and laying in the bed watching every anime they can find. It's a lot of stress-free alone time that they needed badly and even though Dan is in a bit of pain, it's ultimately a nice week.
On the third day they cry a lot and take a bath together and cry in the bath. It's like a very strange Baptism that seems to make things better, even though feeling as though you've lost a part of you can never really be made better. They tuck their feelings into each other and cry. It's something.
They tweet about innocent, silly things and don't post anything else on any website. Nobody has a clue.
When the week draws to a close both men are sad, but mostly relieved. It was a week of healing but they needed to return to their normal lives so they could begin to move on. Before they know it they're waiting at the terminal for their flight, Dan falling asleep on Phil's shoulder.
The plane ride home is long and exhausting. Phil thinks the past few weeks have been mostly exhausting, but this is the last leg of the journey before they'll finally be home and that thought keeps them going.
Ultimately, the two men will not associate their months in the states with the trauma that occupied the last week of it. They'll forever think of it as the biggest, greatest adventure of their lives and put the memories of the ordeal in a little box to neither dwell upon, nor forget.
One day they will adopt kids and be part time radio presenters and full time fathers with retro-nerdy twitters and great hair. One day Dan will be thankful that they did not lose him as well on that day, and Phil will cry into his bed sheets until Dan drags him from their room. One day they'll stop thinking about it more than once every few years.
One day they will be calm and complete with one another and their lives, but until that day they'll be just fine.